Trigger Happy
by Crimson Vixen
Summary: Ikki x Kazu. Kissing Kazu was a lot like firing a gun.


**A/N: **Umm, so I know it's not xmax just yet, but it's close enough. And this isn't an xmas themed fic but it IS a fic near/around xmas time so, take it as you will. I just didn't have the motivation or inspiration to create holiday fic on such short notice (I have to say the holiday really did sneak up on me) but I wanted to at the very least have SOMEthing to show for it.

It's been a while and I'm rusty, and its the holidays, so cut me some slack on this one.

I guess I don't have much to say for this one. I'm pretty tired.

**Warnings: **boys fooling around and ... I guess you can't really call it gun play. Ahh, just read it and if you see anything offensive, suck it up XD I'm also pretty dead tired looking over this so excuse any typoes and errors and the like. Have some Christmas spirit.

**Disclaimer: **If they belonged to me, this stuff wouldnt be on ffnet.

--

_In any case I hope that all of you have a very special_

_very beautiful Christmas_

--

--

* * *

--

**Air Gear**

_a fiction by Crimson Vixen_

**Trigger Happy**

--

* * *

--

--

Over time, it takes quite a few rounds for Ikki to find a way to accurately describe it. That feeling of rapture and heat of another person who bends to him, who worships him, writhing slowly underneath him; a reaction to every little thing his fingers do. That feeling that squirms delightfully in the deepest parts of his belly whenever Kazu's eyes burst wide and his head throws back, when his hips jump heavenward and his voice cracks raw.

But now Ikki is able to appropriately explain it.

Kissing Kazu was a lot like firing a gun.

Once Ikki pulled the trigger for the first time and felt the rush of danger like he was holding smoking metal, he felt the intense, burning urge to do it again. And he wasn't able to wash the feeling down.

Because when Kazu is under him, there and touchable and responsive, Ikki wants to fire him up, again and again and again.

Because Kazu is a creature often controlled by desire, compelled to act on selfish, sometimes sexual impulses. He'll breathe against Ikki's body, inhale his woodsy scent, swallow testosterone when Ikki kisses him. He'll press his hips against the crow's, moving slowly at first and then finding a rhythm to fall in sync with.

And if Ikki does it just right, those ragged breaths will turn into something more audible and encouraging, and eventually something sudden and uncontrollable.

_Bang_.

Ikki never knew a gunshot could come as a soundless scream until Kazu's skull drilled into the pillow and his jaw cracked open, and whatever sound that was trying to shoot out of his windpipe was too strangled to properly escape. All he knows is that he loves the way Kazu will slowly roll his head to the side afterwards, eyes closed and sighing a moan because he feels that _good_ and he's hording more gunpowder in his veins than he initially thought. It makes Kazu squirm with unused energy, and that makes Ikki trigger happy.

He doesn't find it unfair in the least bit, for while Kazu was like an adrenaline rush to Ikki, Kazu treated Ikki like a drug. He craved him like one, like an unbreakable addiction as he whined for more and clawed for climax.

And Kazu is liable to crumble under the weight of things like weakness. Weakness that drove him to itch and buck for another overdose, shimmering with sweat like the gleam of a pistol, mouth open and waiting like a lead barrel and tongue darting out fast enough to fool Ikki into thinking he was gulping bullets.

And when Ikki's fingers grow tired and stiff, he rolls off of Kazu because the blonde is out of ammo and needs time to reload. The crow sprawls just next to him to stare into the ceiling and heaves and heaves and slowly lets his breathing return to normal as his cheeks lose their flush and his body goes chill as if he's pooling blood. The only thing that clogs the bleeding and saves him from shivering is Kazu rolling to his side and throwing his limbs over him to bury his head into his shoulder to respite, chest rising and falling in equal exhaustion.

Ikki can't help but grip him back with oily hands and hot fingernails, pulling him close to steal his body heat, careful to hold tightly but not to smother, like he'll go off, like he'll fire and Ikki will fall into round two and straddle him mercilessly. For if mere play was enough to heighten his senses almost to the point of hysteria, surely squeezing him would feel almost, in some way, like suicide.


End file.
